For You
by Chrysothemis Bird
Summary: Cecil and Carlos react to the first snow of the season. A gift for the lovely QueenofWeird. Merry Christmas, Your Majesty!


For You

A _Welcome to Night Vale_ fan fiction

For Her Majesty, the QueenofWeird

It was snowing in Night Vale. Snowing! In the middle of the hot desert were the hot sand covered the hot ground as far as the eye could see—here it was, the middle of December, and snowing.

Cecil had seen the snow so few times a year it still gave him goose bumps. All those tiny, shiny white crystals sprinkling down from the sky in such a random pattern. He could never guess where the next one would fall. He watched the proceedings from the window of his apartment. He was a few stories above the ground, but even so, could not see the top of where the snowflakes were coming from. Wherever that may be—he would ask Carlos.

Oh, it was a magical thing! He looked down over the yard below his window at the folk of Night Vale running around in the snow and screaming. They were surrounded in the snow, getting covered in it. It was in their hair and their clothes. It stuck to the bare branches of the trees and the sides of peoples' houses. No one knew what to think about it—it had come so suddenly, with no warnings from the Town Council or little green packages from the Secret Police left on your front porch. As such it was treated as a surprise with the customary running around and screaming.

Cecil decided to join them. It had been such a long time since he had run around and screamed while getting covered in sticky snowflakes! He noticed that many of the children's screams didn't sound all that convincing. Though since the Secret Police had not initiated the snow with little green packages, perhaps they had no say as to how it was celebrated. Just in case, Cecil decided to have a word with some of those children. There had been quite enough disappearances this month. It would be a shame to vanish on account of such a pretty quirk of the weather.

Cecil went to his closet and dug through it until he found his puffy winter coat, then hurried outside into the blinding white. Oh, it was so much more beautiful up close! Cecil didn't even feel like screaming; he wanted just to walk slowly through the whirling flakes and let them cover his body and soul.

He looked eagerly around the yard to see how many people were here. There were several making a ruckus across the street. He started over to them, but then paused as something caught his eye.

It was a strange pile of snow. Strange because it did not look like the type that would just magically appear out of spite. It looked like someone had made it. Cecil peered at it as he came closer. If he didn't know any better, he would have said the silhouette resembled that of a person. He walked around it curiously.

As he came to the side facing the apartment building, he saw that someone had stuck dark rocks and pieces of stick on the upper part of the pile in such a way that they resembled a face on the part of the pile that might have been a head had the pile been a living person and not just a pile of snow. Cecil gazed at it eagerly. What a clever idea! What was this called—art? Imagine, shaping a bunch of tiny, miniscule little droplets of ice into something this wonderful! It looked like a person—it was even smiling!

"Oooh, what's that?" one of the previously screaming children said, running over to where Cecil stood admiring the artistic pile of snow.

"I think it's called art," Cecil said.

The child titled her head as she examined it. "Must have been really hard," she said. "Having to pile so many of those white things in that pattern. One by one, I would assume. Or are there rules?" she looked at Cecil.

"I don't know," Cecil said. "It's never been done before."

The child grinned. "Then let's make our own—before they make rules about it."

Cecil smiled back in wonder. "How will we do it?"

The child frowned, looking at the swirling snowflakes around her. "Well…I'm not sure," she said. "Maybe we could just start gathering them around. Maybe they shape like that naturally."

As she and Cecil began to coax the snow into another pile, modeling it after the first one, several other people saw them and decided to join the struggle, making their own artistic piles. At first they just gathered flaks and put them into a pile, but then the girl figured out that if you squeezed a bunch of them together they held their shape. Then Cecil discovered—by accident, when he dropped one of their ball-shaped clumps of snow on the ground and tried to pick it up again—that the snow was so sticky if you rolled a ball of it in more snow, the ball would get bigger. He and the girl tried it out with more balls and found out that it worked. They began stacking their balls into a shape, growing more and more excited as it began to look like a person.

"We need eyes," the girl shouted, but finding no rocks to make them they speculated if they could lend one of their own. But then Cecil decided that it probably didn't _need_ eyes, being snow and all and having no actual capacity to see.

By the time they were done it seemed everyone in Night Vale was making a person-shaped pile of snow. The children were still running around and screaming, but this time with a purpose. Grown-ups were doing it too, but much more grimly, as if assuming it must be a task laid out to the by the Secret Police. Cecil was delighted that so many would start this wonderful game simply because they saw him and the girl doing it.

"What now?" the little girl asked, somewhat forlornly, as the pile was fully sculpted and needed nothing more.

"Let's make another one," Cecil suggested.

The girl looked around at the yard, which was now full of the piles and the people making them. "Where?" she asked.

It only took Cecil a moment to think of where…

Carlos had woken up to a snowstorm. He'd always loved snow, and he especially loved those warm, wet snows that came swiftly and suddenly as you slept. Perfect snowman snow.

He'd gotten out of bed and dressed as quickly as he could. He wanted to be the first one out in that snow, the first to see that perfect sheet of pure white before it became marred with the footprints and tire tracks of the whole town.

He stepped out into the cold air and took a deep breath. He looked around at the houses decked in white, the smooth street layered in sparkling, pristine snow. At the flakes still tumbling down from the sky! He couldn't resist sticking his tongue out to catch one, and giggled as a sudden gust of wind blew a whole bunch into his mouth.

Oh, he had to build a snowman. First thing in the morning, before anyone else woke up, he'd build a snowman right outside his window, then go inside to treat himself to hot cocoa and cinnamon while gazing at it. He pulled his mittens tighter over his hands and looked around for the right place to start.

Carlos knew he was kind of old to be doing this, but he couldn't help himself. It'd been years since he'd made a snowman, years since he'd sipped hot cocoa while looking at one through the window. To do it in Night Vale, of all places, would be more magical than ever.

Of course, he'd always had his family to admire it when he was done, too. Someone always had to say "Carlos made the first snowman of the year—again!" His father, his mother—a friend—there was always someone. But that was when he was younger. He'd be a bit embarrassed showing his snowman to another of the scientists on his team, and doubted if they'd understand the significance of it when he did.

Carlos paused for a moment as he thought. He felt he could never just build a snowman for himself—he had to do it _for_ someone. For a reason.

Immediately he thought of Cecil. He grinned to himself, a bit embarrassed, then glanced around as if the passers-by could read his mind—had there even been any passers-by, which there were not.

Well, why not Cecil? He had to admit that he liked him—a lot—and it was pretty obvious that Cecil liked him too, so…why not honor him with the first snowman of the year?

As soon as he thought that, Carlos became excited. He knew where Cecil's apartment was. Yes it was across town, but what could be better on the first snow of the year than to take a long walk through the falling flakes, on your way to make a gift for someone special?

When he got there the yard was empty. No one was up yet. Carlos looked up at the windows to find the one to Cecil's room. Aha—there it was. Third to the left on the second story. Carlos gauged the distance carefully, finding the place where Cecil would see it and know it was for him. Placing it so he could see it from the window if he was looking for it. He shaped it into a little person with a big smile, using whatever he could find to add the details it needed. He stepped back, breathless, and admired his work. The snow continued to fall around his little person, who seemed happy to sit right where it was, waving at the whole world.

The falling snow would cover Carlos's footprints and the marks made by the rolling of snowballs. He grinned when h thought of the look on Cecil's face upon seeing the snowman. Then he turned and left his little man to be discovered by his friend.

Cecil led the little girl across town to Carlos's apartment. Now, he wasn't actually supposed to know where Carlos lived, but as long as he didn't tell anybody _why_ he picked this place, he didn't think he would have to suffer any adverse effects from intruding on the privacy of Night Vale's Most Significant Outsider.

"There's nothing here yet," Cecil said, pointing to the area right below Carlos's window—another thing he was not supposed to know about. "Let's make another one here."

"Okay," the girl said. She'd enjoyed their walk through the snow. Cecil could see snowflakes trapped in her curls but decided not to tell her about them.

She and Cecil began to make another pile of snow into a person shape. This time Cecil was more particular, insisting it must be shaped just so, and searching more diligently for the right thing to make eyes with. Finding nothing better, he yielded to the girl's suggestion to use some dry leave she'd found. Surprisingly, they seemed just right when he put them on.

They stepped back to admire their work.

"It's better than the last one," the girl boasted.

Cecil agreed. "It's the best one yet. Besides the first one," he added.

The girl nodded, a bit grudgingly. "Yeah, you can never quite match the original."

Cecil was happy to hear her say so.

Carlos was surprised when walked back to his apartment. He'd taken the long way home to watch as Night Vale woke up, and was astonished to see them beginning what appeared to be some kind of intensive snowman-building regime. _Everyone _was doing it. Night Vale sure had some weird customs!

But he was more surprised when he got back home—because of the little snowman sitting under his window. Its face—adorably composed of leaves—looked up to where Carlos would be if he stood in the window looking down.

"_Cecil_," Carlos whispered, and smiled.

Cecil knew there were other person-shaped mounds of snow in the yard. He knew all of Night Vale had had fun sculpting them. And he'd had fun making his own as well. But he would forever have a soft spot for the little man sitting outside his window and gazing up at him and he gazed down at it. He drank his kale juice tinted with marigold (his favorite drink for odd turns of the weather) and smiled at the gift that someone had made just for him.

Carlos made himself a cup of cocoa. He looked out the window, down at the residents of Night Vale running around making snow people in every available space. He stirred the cinnamon into his cocoa and took a sip, relishing the taste of winter. He smiled down at his little snowman. The snowman smiled back up.


End file.
